Harisseh is yet another poor man’s dessert, but quite a favourite with my four children. Nancy, an older aunt in the family, used to be a frequent visitor to our house, always bringing with her a tray of harisseh. She would insert an almond into one of the pieces as an unusual gift. My eldest daughter, Mona, always keen to get the gift, would gorge herself on the harisseh and force me to intervene discreetly with Aunt Nancy, begging her to